


we’re higher than our silence and deeper than our violence

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Series: an unquiet mind [5]
Category: From Paris with Love (2010), Supernatural
Genre: Against all odds, Angry Wax, Angst, Atonement - Freeform, Betrayal, Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Crossover, Deadline/Time Bomb, Delirium, Desperation, Falling In Love, Family, Fever, Fluff, Friendship, Getting Together, Horror, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort Bingo Round 9, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Partners to Lovers, Possessive Behavior, Prophetic Visions, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Wax, Recovery, Restraints, Road Trips, Romance, Scars, Serial Killers, Torture, Trope Bingo Round 12, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Brothers,Reece marveled.That explains the protectiveness. I guess Wax and I are a bit like siblings too.That thought both comforted and somewhat terrified him.Reece and Wax are sent over to the States, where the two run into the Winchester brothers who happen to be tracking the same nest of vampires, whose bloodthirsty vendetta is to kill all psychics.





	we’re higher than our silence and deeper than our violence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for h/c_bingo April Amnesty for the four prompts: serial killers, deadline / timebomb, scars and atonement; I’m counting vampires as serial killers in this case. In this challenge we had to crossover two fandoms: I chose From Paris With Love and Supernatural, and also did a sort of Supernatural fusion for From Paris With Love, aka my preexisting series discussed below. Basically, Reece is a psychic like Sam is: has premonitions/visions of victims, etc.
> 
> This is also a fill on my Trope Bingo [card](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/30129.html) for the square ‘Against All Odds.’ 
> 
> This is set in the same Monsters/Hunters world that my other fics ‘The Skin Job’, ‘Hang Tight’ and ‘murky like my heart’ are set in. I’m working on several other fics in this series, including one longer than ‘The Skin Job,’ and will eventually order them and give the series a name. Essentially, Reece and Wax work for a secret government agency that hunts down all manner of monsters who prey on humans. They are both the investigators and the hunters, the only ones who have the skill-set to find out what they’re hunting and then kill it. Reece, like in the film, is more by the books and doesn’t fool around. While Wax, also like in the film, figures you might as well have a little fun while you’re discovering all manner of nasty things.

 

Reece almost didn’t tell Wax; then again, he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

The most he could remember from those five seconds was  _pain_ , more pain than he’d ever felt, the kind of pain that carved out all your insides, scraping you raw until there was no longer any oxygen in your lungs to do the one thing you needed to do most: scream. 

_Wax. Where the_ fuck  _is Wax?_

And then… it was like someone had flipped a switch and reality was blinding but at least it was over.

He was waiting in line in some type of quick-service restaurant and no one was watching him, not even the imposing figure standing barely five inches in front of him, shaved head, muscles apparent even under the heavy brown leather jacket worn so often it was like his partner’s second skin. Reece took in the aspects of Wax that never changed, allowing the familiar to ground him as he usually did: the dull green scarf masking the back of his neck, the stainless steel hoop in just his left ear and the matching set of rings on his left hand. Wax had this peculiar sense of style that Reece had found weird at first, but then it all easily blended into the man, the  _partner_ that Reece trusted with his life. 

Sound returned after sight, allowing Reece first to acclimate to his settings before bombarding him with the loud chatter of the ordering line and the packed tables. Wax was rattling something about the prevalence of bacon on burgers in America compared to Paris.

Reece moved closer, arm at Wax’s elbow, until Wax was paying attention though still not sparing Reece more than a half-glance and barely even that. “You want a salad or a burger today?” He asked because Reece  _did_ like to eat healthy once in a while, unlike Wax. Reece focused on the flow of the words rather than the actual content, because as long as Wax was talking Reece was safe and Wax was with him and the world wasn’t all some cesspool of blood and guts and slime intent on choking them out of existence. 

No, there were still lines to get food and idle chit chat and people so oblivious Reece told himself not to long to have their ignorance.

It never ended well.

“I’d steer clear of the salads,” Wax rambled. “With the romaine recall and all, but hey, it’s your funeral.”

Better to die from food poisoning than underneath any of the things lurking out there.

Reece banged his arm against Wax’s in slight impatience and  _still_ , he didn’t turn, only kept talking. “What’ll it be, Reece? We’re almost to the front.” Reece moved even closer until he fitted himself to Wax’s back, and still in a way that drew as little attention as possible. He bet on Wax not shoving him away and it was a good one, although probably because it was so unlike Reece to minimize personal space. Wax actually startled enough to turn fully around. “Somebody crowdin’ you from behind or something…” His eyes widened and he trailed off, scanning the crowd around them before focusing on Reece again, calm and collected and all the things that Reece wasn’t currently, head spinning, the urge to flee nearly overwhelming him. 

Reece was usually quiet after a vision and this was no exception, which was why he had relied on touch as well as he was able in a crowded place with no privacy. He was too shaken and disoriented to make his mouth form words, or even kick-start his brain to come up with them in the first place, and they’d gone through it enough times that Wax knew it. “Go sit down in the booth over there.”

Except Reece was kinda hungry, another thing common after a vision even if the very idea of eating after some of the things he’d seen made him sick to his stomach.

And Wax knew about  _that_ too. “I’ll get you some lunch,” he insisted, nudging Reece gently with a hip and then the tips of his fingers, the two of them so close no one could see. “Just go sit.” 

Wax could be pushy when he wanted to be and Reece, devoid of the energy it required to hold his ground, became pliant.

Most things had become unspoken between them: a brush of Wax’s hand against his shoulder, telling Reece to follow; a hand helping him up from a tumble down the stairs or the sting of concrete or even from a cramped booth; a steady hand at his back, resting right over his spine telling him sit, stay and don’t roll over.

Reece usually ignored those last ones, hating when Wax benched him.

He lost more time, drifted through the next five minutes until the world filtered back in around him, the noise and the bustle and time once more apparent and crashing down on him. He honed in on Wax chowing down on a burger across from him, bacon practically exploding out from it. A leg brushed against his under the booth they were sharing and Reece shifted further back. A boot found him next.

Was Wax trying to play footsy with him?

Lessening the tension, Reece recited. Usually, touch helped him recover faster, probably because it was the only way Reece had to communicate for an hour or so after a particularly nasty vision. Wax wasn’t one of those guys who shied away from touch despite his intimidating appearance, always teasing Reece or trying to hold him in place or drag him around. The ideas of personal space or even privacy didn’t much exist to him, making him not the most courteous roommate or car-mate or bedmate. It was another way in which he and Wax differed and yet…

Reece did appreciate Wax not brushing him off or ignoring him.

Still, he shifted again, closer to the nearest exit and Wax let him be, though he did stop inhaling his food for a second. “You okay?” He asked, not pressing, just mildly curious with a mouthful of burger.

Reece nodded mechanically, telling himself to stop staring at the door and just focus on Wax instead, given he was in between Reece and that door. “Nest,” he offered, knowing that as much as Wax didn’t push, he still wanted to have just the vaguest sense of what Reece had seen.

“How many?”

“Three. More.” It had  _felt_ like more.  _Vampires, fangs dripping with blood, dingy, filthy rooms where bodies were strewn and judging by the overpowering scent of fear in the air, not all the bodies were dead._

Wax nodded because they already knew about the nest, it was what they had been sent here to take care of, but if Reece’s visions were aligning with their assignment then it was a sign they were close. “Good. It’s what we’re here for so good.” Wax pushed a basket of fries over to him and returned to what remained of his burger. “Eat. We’ve got time.”

Reece left the ketchup where it was.

* * *

 

America was very different from France, all endless roads and quaint, out of the way diners boasting best burgers or tastiest barbecue or even all you can eat buffets that left Wax reeling like a kid in a candy store. Reece had lived so long in Paris he had almost forgotten it; moreover, he’d spent his teenage years and up mostly in cities. Wax’s story he didn’t know until he asked and received nearly the same answer: ‘too much time running around, packed tight like a can of sardines into nearly all the cities of the world, and  _definitely_ not enough time smelling roses and all that jazz, Reece.’

The open road was a balm to them both. Sure, they didn’t know what lay on either side of it, but the path before them was unbarred and completely visible to them for miles. The sky was so blue and the clouds massive and blindingly white, vast fields on either side alternating between the deepest gold and the brightest green, and Reece couldn’t fathom how somewhere could boast so much color, so much life, so much openness.

The air was cleaner and the sky clearer and the heat comfortable as it rested on his sleeveless arms and the base of his neck. Wax had only laughed at him dressing down to teeshirts and khakis, but Reece did feel all the lighter for it and he  _needed_ that right now. 

Sometimes, he almost forgot that they were here for a case.

Sometimes, he tried to make himself believe that he didn’t really have to leave.

* * *

 

He woke slowly, though naturally and not from a vision. His head was resting somehow on Wax’s shoulder, road rolling away beneath them, some country western tune on a low drone floating from the radio. He pushed himself away back to his side of the car and stretched his cramped limbs, causing Wax to turn and watch him thoughtfully, hands easing up on the steering wheel. “Nice nap? You should eat something.”

Reece felt in the mood enough to roll his eyes and he did, gazing out the window. After all the long days and even longer hours crammed into the same small space with Wax, he dreamed about warm, sun-soaked sheets and a pillow under his head and a bed he could stretch out in without Wax taking up more than half of it.

Wax slowed down and pulled over into some empty gas station. “Do me a favor and get some munchies and drinks while you’re in there. I’ll gas up.”

Reece took a few minutes to stretch, for once not caring if Wax watched him or not, and then lazily made his way inside. He walked aimlessly down the aisles, his fingers brushing bags upon bags of junk food and cardboard boxes of candy bars he vaguely remembered from when he was a kid. Undecided, he sighed and started grabbing items randomly, eyes casually flicking up to the register.

There was no one there.

Then again, they were hundreds of miles outside of any decent sized town, so maybe the attendant was just out back smoking a cigarette or something. He made his way up to the counter regardless, only turning back once he realized he’d forgotten the drinks and coffee,  _especially_ coffee, and he vaguely wondered where he’d seen the coffee station before hands wrapped around his throat from behind, fingernails piercing his neck, fingers grasping his skin so hard Reece’s vision rippled and he gasped out a painful sounding wheeze. 

His hands instinctively pummeled the hands and arms holding him, but it was a futile effort at best, a dead giveaway that this was no ordinary human. Nothing Reece was doing, no matter how hard he kicked the legs bracketing his, no matter how much power he put behind his blows, was doing any good.

He quickly changed course before shortage of breath robbed him of any coherent action.

Reece threw himself backward, waiting for the collision of skin against counter-top, depending upon whatever was seconds away from snapping his neck to loosen their hold even momentarily, just for a half-second, but it never came.

And Reece, his throat held in a stranglehold and his head yanked upward, whole body pulled taut as he was lifted off the ground so that his fingers could only reach desperately for the knife in his pocket, too far away to have any hope of grasping, suddenly had the absurd thought that he wished Wax didn’t have a junk food addiction.

A gunshot rang out and Reece heard the sharp pop of shattering glass, exploding directly in front of him, and he had the stupid thought of shielding his face before realizing that it didn’t really matter anyway, considering he was barely moments away from passing out.

His hands slowed and then finally stilled, body pulling in on itself and slumping, about to succumb completely to the darkness until he heard a sharp slice through the air and a thump and Reece was yanked down to the ground, drawing in a massive, agonizing breath, coughing and gasping and pulling in short, ragged breaths that eventually deepened and lengthened until there was smoke in his eyes and fire in his throat and two sharp points of pain in his neck.

_That was it then. Vampire._

And he hadn’t even felt it  _feeding._

Reece shuddered and moved slightly until he felt something at his back, which he rested against as he rapidly scanned the room. He pressed a careful hand to his bleeding neck, staring blearily up at the shattered glass of the nearest freezer, sodas with blue and red food coloring leaking out onto the tile. A figure knelt down next to him and Reece blinked before starting, jolting upright even as someone pressed him back down, not urgently but cautiously. He relaxed somewhat as something soft replaced his hand at his neck.

“You okay?” A voice that  _definitely_ wasn’t Wax’s asked, low and worried. The person belonging to that voice couldn’t have been older than twenty-one or twenty-two, Reece realized as his vision finally cleared, boyish hair flopping about his face and sticking out at his ears. That face was open and honest though, brow furrowed, hand gentle but firm as it pressed the cloth tighter against Reece’s neck. 

“Where’s Wax…?”

“Sammy!” A voice shouted and Reece heard footsteps reach them. His gaze slid up slowly from the boots to their wearer.

This ‘Sammy,’ however, didn’t pay any mind; in fact, he shifted closer to Reece, barely sparing the other man, shorter hair and a more rugged appearance though not much older, a glance.

It was then that Reece pinpointed the cause of the sound that had released the vampire’s hold on him: a machete, blood-soaked and resting not two feet from Reece, wielded by none other than the man examining his neck. “Who’s Wax?” He asked, his hand taking the hand Reece had originally kept at his neck and putting it there again, making sure Reece was applying enough pressure before retreating.

“My partner,” Reece caved. He figured that if he owed this person his life, he owed him a bit of the truth too. “He should be just outside.”

Taking the two of them in fully as they stood side-by-side, staring down at him, Reece realized how ruggedly they were dressed and how road-weary they appeared. Both wielded machetes and the older man had murder in his eyes as he looked Reece’s savior up and down, no doubt making sure he had no injuries. Reece immediately recognized this because he knew Wax did the same,  _especially_ when Reece wasn’t looking, just as the younger of the two wasn’t looking now. 

There was no doubt in Reece’s mind that these two knew their victim had been a vampire. Why the hell else would they be wielding machetes in a gas station?

_Tread carefully. They don’t know anything about you or Wax, and you don’t necessarily want them to._

“He the guy from your vision, Sam?”

Reece barely suppressed an outward expression of alarm.  _Vision?_ But… they couldn’t be after him. No one knew psychics existed save for the agency he and Wax worked for. Unless they were from the agency too? No… wouldn’t they have  _known_ that? 

“Yeah,” Sam responded. He offered Reece a hand which he accepted and even still, he leaned against the counter, feeling safer that way as he made a split second decision to just come out with it.

“You guys hunt vampires, right?”

Dean came at him but didn’t touch him. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

Reece swallowed, wondering the extent as to what he should reveal. Sam shifted uncomfortably, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean…”

“What the  _hell_ do you know about vampires?”

_I’ve been fed on, more than once_ , Reece thought.  _I’ve been used as a blood bag for days and carried around like meat and suspended from a hook in the ceiling in the middle of a freezer waiting for Wax to come find me._

“Are you saying _you_ hunt vampires?” Sam tried to help. 

Reece nodded. “My partner and I.”

“Then where the hell’s your partner?” Dean demanded.

Yeah, that was a good question. Wax never tended to be around the second you needed him the most. “I don’t know, usually we stick together, especially if I’ve had a vision…,” Reece let slip without intending to, though realizing it was probably the best move since Dean had so causally mentioned it before.

“Vision?” Dean repeated, glancing over at Sam.

“What kind of vision?” Sam asked. He appeared totally engrossed now and not trying to hide it in the slightest, even more than when Reece had revealed that he knew about the existence of vampires  _and_ that he hunted them, which were revelations in and of themselves. 

Dean tried to break the spell, protective and suspicious again. “Sam,  _don’t,”_ he said firmly, but Reece had already figured out that Sam wasn’t one to take orders.

“Dean, I really think it’s okay.” He insisted, shooting Dean an exasperated glance until the latter finally stepped away from Reece. “I get visions sometimes, people dying mostly, and we try to prevent that.” Reece nodded and that seemed to satisfy Sam enough for him to shift topics. “And we’re called hunters,” Sam explained. “At least  _here_ we are.”

“Hold on a sec,” Dean broke in, relenting. “You’re definitely American…”

“I am,” Reece admitted, “but I haven’t lived here in ages. I’ve been living and working abroad, in Paris mostly, for an agency that hunts down vampires and werewolves and.. well, everything else out there.” And there were a  _lot_ of things out there, not so much dozens and more like  _hundreds_ of different species, creatures Reece couldn’t believe already had names and vulnerabilities and favorite haunts and specific, disgusting tastes and who, mostly, had managed to stay hidden through hundreds of years, stalking and slaughtering their prey discreetly. 

It was a far larger world than it should have been.

Two sets of eyes widened, one pair suspicious and the other amazed. “Wait… you said you work for an  _agency?”_

“Like a government agency?” Sam pressed.

Reece deliberately kept his answer vague. “Sort of. Secret, of course.”

“Of course,” Dean repeated, who appeared a bit less suspicious now and more curious, as Sam was. “That’s… unheard of. Jesus, if I thought we could be getting support like  _that…_ ”

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam warned, cutting him off with a sharp glance. 

Reece could have gotten into all the perks and downfalls, mostly the latter, but it wasn’t exactly the best time, especially as Wax popped his head in through the door and sprinted over to them. Reece didn’t think he’d  _ever_ seen him move that fast before. “What the  _hell_ is going on? I chased that motherfucking vamp for nearly two miles before it finally had the decency to get hit by a car.”

“But you made sure it was dead before you took off, right?”

Wax scowled at Dean, though Reece didn’t miss how his gaze lingered on him for longer than anyone else. It was sorta refreshing to see how little Wax cared about the complete strangers sharing the gas station with them, attention solely on his injured partner, but also sort of annoying given that one of them had just saved Reece’s life and they were no doubt hunters and Wax should probably be at least a bit curious but apparently wasn’t.

“‘Course I did. There’s no way in hell I was taking off before I made sure it wasn’t fit to attack any more civilians. Now who the hell are you and why the  _hell_ is my partner  _bleeding?”_

Oh shit, now Wax was going into protective mode.

“Easy there, Shaft,” Dean bit out, and Reece didn’t miss how he subtly shifted himself so that he was between Sam and Wax. The former rolled his eyes and practically pushed Dean aside, holding out a hand for Wax to shake.

Wax, unsurprisingly, didn’t take it, but Reece nodded when Sam glanced over at him uncertainly. “My name’s Sam Winchester and this is Dean. I was just telling your partner here that we’re hunters, and he was just telling us that he works for an agency that deals with the same sort of thing.”

The ‘what the fuck’ look Wax threw Reece almost sobered him, but not quite.

Reece jumped in, grateful that Sam had tried to mediate between the four of them. “Reece. I’m James Reece, but I just go by Reece. And this is my partner Wax.”

“We’ve been sent over to the States to track and put down a nest,” Wax elaborated and Reece glanced over at him in shock. Leave it to Wax to blow something out of proportion and then one up him.

Dean seemed to back down now that Wax had done the same. “Then we’re probably tracking the same nest, especially since this is the only one we’re heard of in this part of the country. We don’t mind teaming up, but don’t think we’re about to drop this one. My brother and I have been on their tail for a week and a half now. This nest is fairly large and they’ve got more resources than most, so we wouldn’t mind a couple’a extra hands, if the two of you aren’t opposed to it.”

_Brothers_ , Reece marveled.  _That explains the protectiveness. I guess Wax and I are a bit like siblings too._

That thought both comforted and somewhat terrified him.

Reece jumped in before Wax could opt out. “Sure thing. We’re in.”

* * *

 

“What did I say about the two of us talking things over before we come to any decisions?”

Reece shrugged. “That was always my game, remember? Think things through before making a move? You were the one who taught me otherwise.”

Wax’s hand grasped the counter-top behind him and Reece wondered whether he’d rather be grasping Reece and pummeling him instead. He seemed to rein himself in, however, exhaling, hand loosening. “Are you hurt?”

Reece shook his head like an oblivious idiot, wincing at the painful pull in his neck. Wax’s fingers rested just south of the two tiny, bloody pinpricks in his skin, before unwrapping the scarf from around his neck and wrapping it around Reece’s instead. “Good. Now… I’m itching to go kill me some vamps.” He strolled out the door but not before Reece was reminded of his first and most pressing task, Wax shouting it loudly enough so that Reece couldn’t mishear it. “And don’t forget the road snacks!”

* * *

 

The thing about these visions was, well, they made him lose track of consciousness for a spell. It wasn’t like he was  _actually_ unconscious, at least, not by Wax’s recollections, just that Reece wasn’t usually aware of anything else around him that was happening. Not that much could happen in five seconds, except, for Reece to be where he currently was right now, it had to have been more like five minutes. 

No, definitely fifteen. At  _least_ fifteen. 

Reece shifted discreetly, testing the ropes securing him to his chair. He could barely suppress the sharp wince as his head moved, revealing that the wounds at his neck had been reopened.

And recently too.

_Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic…_

Still, he was already feeling woozy from blood loss, and he doubted struggling much against his bonds until his wrists started bleeding would do him any favors.

No, instead he would just have to sit here like he always did and wait for Wax.

_Wax._ He remembered that Wax had been in the motel room with him and that they had been looking for Sam and Dean, who’d been missing for a day or more. They had just been getting ready to check out the nest themselves when Reece had turned, about to grab his bag…

And that was that. The nest had, somehow, found them, and the subsequent punch to Reece’s gut translated to  _no_ vision. 

Reece realized he’d  _much_ prefer the pain a vision would inflict on him to  _this._

At the sound of a door opening his head shot up, vision swimming for a moment but unmistakably making out the shape and size and colors, dark green and dark brown, and tying them all together to construct the figure that was being brought closer and closer to Reece, patches of red at his shoulder and mid thigh and blood dripping from his ear.

_Oh fuuuuucccck._

* * *

 

He didn’t know what pissed him off more: the fact that Reece was tied to a metal pole, unconscious from exhaustion and pain though mostly blood loss, or the image burned permanently into Wax’s head of those blood suckers sticking their filthy fangs into his partner’s throat over and over again, draining him little by little while Wax was bound and drugged himself, helpless as a kitten. It wasn’t  _just_ that they were drinking Reece but that they were  _marking_ him,  _claiming_ him when he was Wax’s. 

When he was  _no one else’s_ but  _Wax’s own._

Something feral in him rose up, screaming  _mine mine mine._

Unfortunately, nobody heard him and nobody cared.

And it didn’t help anyway, it only hurt a million times worse as soon as they started cutting into Reece with weapons, rusty, steel, bacteria laden weapons other than their fangs. Because who the hell would have known that motherfucking  _vampires_ liked to torture their victims before draining them dry? 

“I’m going to tear you apart,” Wax swore, thrashing maniacally against his restraints as an overwhelming amount of blood seeped out from the slit in Reece’s abdomen. Too much blood, more blood than Reece could afford to lose at this point.

_Where the_ hell _are those goddamn Winchester brothers?_

Add to the fact that he was pissed off that he was going to need to be rescued by  _them._

_Priorities, asshole. Priorities._

“Don’t worry,” the vamp grinned at him, bloody fangs and all, eyes piercing through Wax’s armor in the near dark. “It’ll be a nice, slow death. Plenty of time for you to say goodbye.”

_Say goodbye to this, mother_ fucker _,_ Wax envisioned, impaling this bloodsucker with his blade and his five friends in the other room following, alternating between blowing half their faces off and decapitating them and hacking off all their limbs, leaving them writhing on the floor before stripping them of their fangs or just slicing off their jaws to save time. 

“Wax,” a low moan resounded, louder even than the furious beating of Wax’s own heart, and Wax’s sweet, indulgent fantasies all dissolved like fairy dust around him.

Reece always had that effect on him. Always, he was the one person in the room Wax could see and the only one he ever gave a damn about, the only person in the world he gravitated toward and wanted to protect, even if he had to break every bone in his body and crawl naked through glass and blow his own hand off to accomplish that, as long as Reece was okay in the end, as long as he was breathing and bloodied and trembling from head to toe but giving Wax that small smile, brighter than every star in the night sky, warmer than the sun at its highest point.

Somehow, despite the fuzz in his head and the pain at his back, stretching and settling down in his waist and thighs, he fought harder, didn’t care how much he bled, how little progress he made, as long as he was making some progress. As long as he was doing  _something_ . 

If anything though, his agitation only fueled the hunger of their captor. Wax screamed, nearly begged, would have done it even to damn his pride if he thought it would make a lick of difference, as the vamp went in for another slice with his knife, this time on the other side of Reece’s abdomen.

He gagged at Reece’s own scream, loathed himself for turning away even for just that split second before he forced himself to watch.  _He_ was responsible for what was happening to Reece; if his partner had to live it then he had to witness it _._

Except… that scream would haunt Wax’s dreams, hell,  _all_ his  _waking_ moments for the rest of his life. He’d heard Reece scream before, had seen Reece hurt before but  _never_ like this. None of his previous partners had had to go through  _this._

“Reece!” He cried, straining to see as much as he possibly could in the shadows. “Reece!” He begged for Reece’s eyes to hold his own, for Reece to know that he wasn’t alone, as little good as it did him, as useless as Wax was.

But he could hear Reece’s shuddering, pain-drenched gasps tearing him apart, only stretching the wounds in his belly, only spiraling further and further into an oncoming panic attack and Wax  _had_ to calm him down. 

The knowledge barely took hold of Wax before the vamp tightened Reece’s restraints and then cruelly shoved him further back against the pole he was tied to, causing Reece to cry out. At least it broke his breathing pattern, calming Reece for a fraction of a section as he focused on the newfound pain. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy that sick fuck looming over Reece, so he pushed him a second time, no doubt harder because Reece started screaming again.

It didn’t end either. It went on for seconds stretching into agonizing, little eternities, stretching into minutes that had no end or comfort or sense. Wax was losing his goddamn  _mind._

There was no other explanation for it: Wax was in hell. Nothing could be worse than this moment, nothing but Reece lying in a pool of his own blood,  _dead_ . 

“Reece!” He tried again, softer and lower this time, spent. He knew that Reece wouldn’t hear him, pummeled by so much pain he probably couldn’t register anything other than its unending cruelty. “Just hold on,” Wax urged, tears stinging his eyes, dripping down his nose, stinging his lips that were split in numerous places. He tried not to move for a moment, adjusting to the increasing pain in his back. “I’m going to get us out of this,” he promised, back spasming, even his desperation waning in the persistence of his own pain.

They  _never_ should have taken this case.

* * *

 

Wax’s hours of struggling and straining against his restraints had paid off. Granted, there wasn’t much feeling in his hands anymore, but he gritted his teeth and focused on not screaming in half-agony and half-victory as he felt wrist one slipping free, his bloodied hand immediately going to work on the other.

He didn’t dare look over at Reece, they didn’t have time for that.

And even so, it was everything he could do not to, and it took even more effort to force himself to keep still and watch the door and wait just before he was completely free, making absolutely sure that he couldn’t hear anything, giving them as much time as he thought he could.

Absolute silence, unnerving Wax enough to quickly though still quietly make his move.

He slipped free and breathed through the sharp spasm coursing through his back, making his way over to Reece sluggishly and with a dread he couldn’t shake. Reece might not even be breathing, may have just slipped away while Wax hung several feet away, oblivious.

But he was, his eyes wide and bloodshot and staring at nothing, staring right through Wax like he wasn’t even there, until he  _blinked._

_Oh god. Jesus Christ._ The darkness mercifully kept him from seeing much, but the dark liquid coating nearly every inch of his partner was all he needed to see. Not knowing what else to do, his teeth bit into the ropes at Reece’s wrists and he started tearing at them, arms holding Reece in place, panic and fury and hopelessness clawing at him until he had to pull away to take a breath, letting go of Reece for a moment so he could collapse against the wall and just  _breathe._

_I’m getting too old for this bullshit._

He snapped back into reality jarringly with Reece’s loud, horrible breathing that was more like wheezing than anything else. He stumbled back over to him, knowing he didn’t have anymore seconds to spare, but sparing several of them anyway for his partner.

And then Reece stopped breathing altogether.

“Reece, breathe!” He rested his fingers on Reece’s spine and started rubbing, up and down, forcefully and then more gently after Reece hiccuped and pulled in a tortured breath. “That’s it, come on, just keep breathing, Reece.”

Reece relapsed again, however, breaths sharper and shorter, face contorting in pain, hands clenching, desperate for something to hold onto. Wax pulled him closer but it didn’t matter. Reece’s back arched and then he crumpled against him as much as he was able, his whole skinny form trembling against Wax as he pulled in harsh, gulping breaths.

It wasn’t helping any that they weren’t out of danger yet, that their kidnappers were probably no more than mere feet away. And it really wasn’t helping any that Wax didn’t know what to say or what to do, only knew that Reece had lost too much blood and was still in agony and that he needed to do  _something_ . 

“Reece,” his voice cracked but he pushed through, needing to talk even for his own sake. “You need to take it slow,” he reminded, keeping his voice low and soothing and still persuasive. “Deep breaths. Don’t think about anything else but breathing. In and out, okay?” He knew Reece’s head was probably going a mile a minute, judging by the way his hands started clenching again and the way his breaths became even more erratic. It didn’t even matter what he was thinking about, it just needed to  _stop._ “In and out,” he repeated as he scanned the dark, sparse room for a weapon  _again_ , uselessly, wondering how far he could carry Reece out of here before getting shot down. Reece was in no state to walk, though judging by the pain currently residing in Wax’s lower back, sending him painful reminders every half-minute or so, he wasn’t in much of a state either. 

At least his rambling had worked, Reece’s breathing evening out just enough to keep Wax satisfied for the time being, the pride felt at Reece recognizing his voice and calming himself too fucking fantastic for Wax to properly describe.

He started working on the ropes again, tingling teeth and sore fingers, ecstatic when he felt himself make  _some_ sort of progress. After what felt like an eternity, he was  _finally_ holding Reece in his arms, the two of them sprawled out on the floor like they were posing for some grotesque painting. 

“Reece, baby,” he breathed and then gasped. He searched Reece’s half-lidded eyes for a moment but there was no recognition in them, only pain. Wax allowed himself a breath of relief but then realized it didn’t matter, even though he’d  _never_ called his partner  _baby_ before, had never even  _thought_ it, had never thought of Reece as more than a partner, a brother and a best friend. Or had he? 

This wasn’t the time for that question.

_But it is_ , the softer side of Wax stressed, the side that only came out to play when Reece was involved.  _You do care about him more than any other partner would. Lord knows how much you hated the other partners you got stuck with. And then Reece was assigned to you, stick up his butt and all and asked too many goddamn questions but actually had so much potential. Why do you think you latched onto him so quickly?_

_Mine mine mine!_ Wax was reminded with a painful feeling in his gut.  _My partner, my brother, my_ Reece. 

No, it wasn’t natural. He could be protective of Reece; he was his partner, after all, not some fuck-wit who didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

But now that Wax had allowed that side of him to cave, to leak into his head, he couldn’t shut it up.  _You stalk his sleeping and eating habits, always find an excuse for him to share a room and a bed with you, and Reece believes even the flimsiest of excuses, and you’re always worried just like a goddamn mother hen._

True, but Reece was the kind of guy a partner worried over.

_Why? Is he not all there, not capable of holding a gun and pulling the trigger? Not mentally able to not let the things we see every day break him? Does he get himself into situations and depend on you to get him out of them?_

No. At least, not always. Lately, due to his visions, Reece had taken all the blows, but he’d been able to look after himself well enough to not give Wax any heart attacks. He’d even brought down a baddie or three without Wax lending much help.

No, this wasn’t Wax’s game, this wasn’t Wax keeping Reece locked up while he did all the hunting and all the slaying. They were  _partners_ , they worked well because they managed to  _fit_ together, to have enough skill in their own separate areas to get the job done without clashing. Reece was the one who asked all the harsh questions and had the patience for actual planning and follow-through. He was more of a people person too, knowing exactly what to say to get someone to open up. Wax just wanted to know where to go and what to point at so that he could shoot. Reece could kill too but he didn’t have the nerve for it as much as Wax did. Poor kid just had too much heart, though ironically that also meant he  _really_ didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a pissed off and upset Reece. 

_Then why are you so protective? Why do you have to be so_ close? 

_I can’t play with his heart,_ Wax shot back.  _It won’t end well. I can make it not mean anything but he can’t, and I wouldn’t want him to. Reece deserves someone pure and untainted and someone ready and able to commit long-term. Not me,_ not  _Charlie Wax._

_Are you so sure about that? Do you think you could have him and then just let him go, even if you thought it would hurt less?_

And then there was the fact that Wax was  _absolutely_ a chick guy and not…

_Reece is different,_ that infuriating, softer side of him stressed again, believing that statement could be applied to their partnership and friendship and everything else.  _He’s different in_ every  _way._

_Maybe I am attracted to him… How have I not noticed it before?_

_You have, you just ignored it. Reece isn’t the easiest guy to love; he’s great at pushing people away. Even you, once you get too close._

Wax thought of all the times he had teased Reece with a touch or even a mere word, expectantly waiting for him to lash out or cave. Instead, he only ever distanced himself more.

So why did Wax keep trying? What was in him that made him push and push and push and push…?

“Reece, baby,” he tried again, spur of the moment, finding it wasn’t as awkward as he wanted it to be.  _Later_ , he told himself firmly, readjusting the long strip he had torn off his shirt that was now pressed tightly against Reece’s stomach, soaked through with Reece’s blood and sweat and probably even with the streaks of liquid running down Wax’s face.  _Reece doesn’t have time for this bullshit right now._

He pulled Reece upright, ignoring the sharp cry that cut deeper than any blade ever could, clutched him against his chest and trudged over to the door, fighting against pain and exhaustion and the fear that one wrong move would quite literally tear Reece away from him forever.

* * *

 

There was no one in any of the multitude of filthy rooms Wax carried Reece through. Reece, who was slipping more and more out of his hold, breathing wetly and shallowly against his neck, drenched in sweat and yet shivering from cold, Wax trying to ignore his ice cold face and frigid hands.

He moved, slowly enough that if he had to drop Reece quickly then he could, but still wanting to be out of this hell hole as quickly as possible.

But there was no one to stop him or slow him down.

At least, no one  _alive._

The next room Wax stepped into in this labyrinth shed a bit more light, giving Wax an unadulterated view of the carnage around him, the only viable explanation for the silence cottoning his ears uncomfortably. There were limbs thrown halfway across the room from their bodies, a long trail of fangs crunching underneath Wax’s boots, blood enough to equal a slaughterhouse. And without a doubt, Wax knew that this was the work of a hunter, one very pissed off hunter who knew exactly what they were doing.

The Winchesters.

Two rooms after, Reece nearly slipping out of his arms like a solid quickly melting into water, they ran into Sam, clutching a bloodied arm, jaw dropping at the sight of them. “Dean!” Even while scanning their surroundings for his brother Sam came toward them, taking half of Reece’s weight without hesitation, blanching at the bloodied mess of Reece’s stomach and the reopened wounds in his neck. “He’s lost too much blood,” he told Wax as if he hadn’t already been acutely aware of that, probably covered in about a quarter of it, while the other quarter or more coated the room they had been held in.

“We need to take him to a hospital,” Wax said, voice hoarse with emotions he didn’t even have names for, knowing full well just how problematic getting medical attention would be.

Dean exited the woods at a dead run just ahead of them, coated in blood, machete dripping with it until he wiped it off on a rag. Wax wondered how many vampires that weapon had had the pleasure of chopping to pieces over the years.

“Dean,” Sam pleaded. “They almost bled him dry.”

“That you back there?” Wax accused. He was used to carnage himself, both he and Reece, had inflicted it plenty of times, but he had  _never_ seen anything like what he’d seen back there. Wax wondered whether the face he was staring into was that of a cold-blooded killer rather than a hunter. 

“We’re not new to this,” Dean retorted, voice taut, hands clenching around his weapon. “Despite what you may think.” Wax knew he meant their ages, how Wax had been doing this for about thirty years longer than they had. Still, he didn’t care, didn’t trust that darkness in the older Winchester but told himself to just use them. Reece’s life depended on his making compromises.

“Then lead the way, hotshot. If not a hospital, then you better have a damn good idea as to where we  _can_ take him.”

“I already gave our friend Bobby a call. He’s waiting at a motel barely two miles from here and he’s already made a hospital run.”

Wax started moving again, Sam easily adjusting to the pace he set, the two of them only stopping at Reece’s half-conscious, pitiful moan. Wax rubbed a thumb discreetly over the back of Reece’s neck and he quieted, face pressing itself into Wax’s neck again so that Wax could feel every breath he took, calming him, convincing him to keep moving, just one step at a time.

He’d been nothing but useless since this whole hunt had begun. Reece had taken all the blows and had gained all the ground.

Wax noticed that Sam took even more of his partner’s weight and wondered whether he was thinking the same thing. Dean kept turning around when he wasn’t clearing a path ahead of them, no doubt making sure his brother was okay with Reece’s weight. To Wax, he startlingly weighed nothing. Sam paid his brother no mind, sparing Wax a sympathetic glance and a small, reassuring smile that surprisingly spoke  _volumes_ to him. “Reece will be okay.” He adjusted Reece’s arm more securely around his neck. 

“I put down the strays,” was Dean’s own form of reassurance and Wax didn’t have a doubt as to that. Honestly, Wax could give a damn about the vamps, he just didn’t want them coming after Reece again.

He was saying to hell with their whole goddamn existence after  _this_ hell-fueled nightmare.

* * *

 

“My first concern’s infection,” the gruff, older man the Winchesters simply called Bobby stated, grimacing at the state of Reece’s lower abdomen. “Those slices in his belly ain’t pretty and they ain’t small wounds neither.”

“I’d dump as much disinfectant as possible on them,” Wax confirmed. “What they used on him wasn’t exactly  _clean._ ”

Bobby nodded, already rolling up his sleeves and unwrapping a roll of bandages from their packaging. “Dean! I need as much alcohol as you can get your hands on and fast,” he ordered, taking the first bottle Dean handed him and then offering it to Wax. “You wanna do the honors?” Wax took the bottle because as much as he was sure he wouldn’t be able to stomach this, he also knew that he’d never let anyone other than himself cause Reece pain  _ever again_ . 

_Especially_ not the Winchester brothers or their relations. 

He unscrewed the cap, vaguely wondered how he was going to do this, how he was going to hold himself together after  _this_ , but the older man mercifully pulled him out of  _that_ head space. “What’s his name?” 

Sam glanced up but it was Wax who answered, running a trembling hand over his heavily sweating face. “Reece.”

“Sam, you’re gonna have to get over here and help me hold Reece down. He can’t afford to lose anymore blood before I get him stitched up.”

Wax stood there even after Sam’s hands were on an arm and upper chest, just watching over a peacefully unconscious Reece.  _Not for long, the quicker this gets done the better odds Reece has. Just_ move.

“Ya waitin’ for a right moment? ‘Cause there ain’t gonna be one, son.”

The words had no time to hang heavy in the air before Wax tipped the bottle over Reece’s lower stomach, starting at a steady trickle and then increasing the flow steadily. Reece jerked and screamed with a throat that sounded like it was about to close up, and he fought with more strength than Wax had thought possible, but his insides sunk when it all but drained out of him not two minutes later, leaving Reece a quivering and sobbing mess, Sam’s words at a low murmur being the only other sound and Wax still standing there, completely  _drained_ , feeling himself start to pull away from a world he didn’t want to play a part in right now, only stirring when Bobby pulled the mostly empty bottle out of his hand. 

“That’s enough for now. I’m gonna take a look at the first incision before I start on the stitches. You gonna check out on me too or are you gonna stay here with him?”

“Stay,” Wax murmured, collapsing in the chair Sam hurriedly pushed behind him. With his last reserve of energy, he clasped Reece’s hand inside both of his, memorizing the feel of his skin and the length of his fingers, how small and delicate they looked beside Wax’s own. He was amazed and touched at the strength Reece had enough to squeeze back. Even if he was useless for everything else except letting Reece know he was there, then at least it was something Reece could hold onto.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take before he checked out of reality  _permanently._

* * *

 

The Winchesters were arguing in the other room and Wax wasn’t paying attention. Reece had finally,  _blessedly_ checked out of consciousness two hours back and Wax would probably pass out in the next half-hour or so, despite that his partner’s fever was raging like an inferno and Wax was checking his pulse every two minutes or so because he literally couldn’t fucking  _see_ Reece’s chest rise or fall. 

_Breathe. Deep breaths, in and out, just like you told Reece earlier._

The old man was in the background somewhere, putting together an IV bag with the rudimentary materials he had and Wax just wanted some  _quiet,_ just wanted everyone to get the hell out and leave him and Reece be. Sure, all he had to do was close the other door and lock the feuding Winchesters in their own room, but Sam had  _other_ ideas. 

“Dean, I am  _not_ living with this on my conscience. And  _neither_ are you.”

“Sammy…,” Dean followed his brother until they were both literally at Wax’s back. “I’m warning you.”

“My brother has something he wants to say.”

Wax  _really_ didn’t think he had the patience for this. “What the fuck are you getting at?” 

“Dean.  _Dean,_ you have to tell him. He has a right to know.”

And now Wax’s interest was a bit more than just piqued. “Tell me what?”

“You have to understand…”

Wax rose, feeling as if he were a closed bottle and the pressure was just building building  _building._ He was only able to calm himself with the reminder that Reece was at his back, vulnerable, still alive but slipping away inch by horrible inch. “Understand what? Am I gonna have to throttle it out of one of you just so I can get some  _goddamn_ peace and quiet?”

“That those vamps were looking for psychics,” Dean bit out. “Some psychic back along tracked their nest down and killed off half their numbers, some idiot who couldn’t think to finish them all off and got killed instead for it. And now, they’ve got this blood pact between them to get rid of all psychics: Sam, your partner, and who the hell knows who else.”  _And Reece had goddamn_ told  _them._ “Don’t you get it? We started tracking them but then they were hunting  _us_ . That’s why they took Sam first, knowing I’d come after…”

Sam cut him off. “My stupid,  _selfish_ brother doesn’t care about anyone else other than me, even himself. He never meant to hurt Reece. If it wasn’t a choice between Reece and I…”

And what Wax hadn’t had the time or energy yet to think about was currently slugging him over and over until he nearly keeled over from the force and downright  _obviousness_ of it.“What are you saying? Are you saying you sold my partner and me up the fucking river just to protect your goddamn brother?  _My_ partner, whose visions led you to the  _exact_ location of the nest in the first place, whom you betrayed by taking off without us? Is that what you’re fucking telling me?”

Sam swallowed, visibly paling, and Wax could hardly give a damn about that, only cared about his hands connecting with Dean’s throat while he shoved him against the nearest wall. They wrestled for a minute or two, Dean nearly giving as many punches and kicks as he got but Wax putting him back right where he’d first put him.

The younger Winchester at his back he expected and he got him to back off nicely with a nasty slice to his leg, causing him to stumble back into the nearest chair, about to get back up for another round before someone else made their presence known.

“Let him go,” the old man warned, shotgun threatening to blow Wax’s head off and _still_ , Wax couldn’t care, not when all he could see was _red:_ _red_ dripping down onto dark, cold concrete _; red_ pooling under Reece’s body, the room transported from _hell_ intent on holding him there so that Wax had to use all his strength to lift him up, and then even more to pry himself loose; _red_ coating Reece’s abdomen until Wax couldn’t even see _skin_ anymore; _red_ staining Wax’s hands, lodged underneath his fingernails and still not enough of it as the darkness washed Reece away from him bit by bit; _red_ like Reece’s bloodshot eyes, gazing up at him with no sense of clarity or time; _red_ like Wax’s bleeding, gaping open heart, someone cutting their crooked way inside him and reaching in and _stabbing stabbing stabbing…_

All he could see was his partner’s life hanging by a goddamn  _thread_ , the thin streak of blood between a tiny bag and skin as translucent as a ghost’s, Reece plagued by infection and fever and not even knowing they had been  _betrayed._

“These boys made a mistake,” the interfering old man admitted. “And it almost got the whole lot of you killed. But none of you ain’t dead yet, and I will do  _everything_ in my power to get that boy over there back into fighting shape again, but I’ll be  _damned_ if I catch you making threats against  _my_ boys.”

Wax shifted his attention toward him, knife at Dean’s throat right where he wanted it. “If my partner dies,” he warned, “I’ll be coming for the both of them. Because by that point, if I can even tear down  _one_ of you,” he spared both Winchester brothers no more than brief, murderous glances, “it’ll be worth my head getting blown off.”

He figured that was something Dean and Sam Winchester both understood, so he left it at that.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Bobby said, lowering the shotgun. Wax followed his lead and removed his hand from the older Winchester brother’s throat. “In the meantime,” Bobby continued, trying to ease the tension even more between the three of them. “You can help me change Reece’s bandages. And, Dean, you gonna make that supply run before the sun comes up and we all either starve or bleed to death?”

Dean quickly slung a backpack over his shoulder and stormed out. Sam, face looking like he had been gut-punched several times over, made a move to sit up but Bobby put up a hand. “I’ll call you if I need anything, Sam, but for the time being, just stay put. I don’t need  _any_ Winchesters to patch up or bury today.”

Already through the connecting door and glued to Reece’s side again, bristling with anger and boiling with self-hatred, Wax carefully unwrapped the blood stained bandages at Reece’s stomach before pausing, cupping Reece’s hand in both of his again, and having to focus all his resolve on not breaking down and weeping at just how much he was set to lose.

* * *

 

“Five more, in the other room,” Reece warned breathlessly and Wax pressed closer.

“What?”

Reece’s head turned toward Wax, wet eyes fever bright, glowing with a madness Wax forever kept tucked away in terror at the back of his mind. “They’re coming. Wax, please, watch out. Watch out for…, Reece broke off, moaning weakly in pain, still in the throes of a fever far more worrying than even the cold had been.

Reece just couldn’t catch a break.

Wax laid a hand on his forehead, pressing himself nearly nose to nose with him. “Easy, don’t worry about any of that right now. Just  _rest_ , Reece.” Reece shifted, face contorting in pain and probably wanting to move to his usual resting position: on his stomach, but Wax wasn’t having it, not when Reece’s breathing was still erratic and hollow sounding, carving a deeper hole in Wax’s sanity. He rested his other hand on Reece’s chest, trying to ignore the heat emanating from there, intent to boil his hand. “Ya never listen, do you? Just lay  _still_ , for me?”

A creak behind him and Wax turned, relieved to see the old man there and not one of the Winchesters. “Was just getting some more bandages ready,” he explained. “Figured I’d check on him.”

Wax nodded in thanks even as he shuddered at the breach of privacy. Then he thought of something to fill the silence. “IV’s almost out.”

“Looks like it’s working. Some of his color’s coming back.”

“Yeah,” Wax sniffed, wiping his nose and pulling back from Reece  _only_ just a fraction of an inch. “The stitches are pretty damn good, by the way.” Better than  _he_ would have managed at the time. 

Bobby snorted. “I’m not some amateur. Luckily, your kid’s tough as nails. Not saying he don’t still have a long way to go, but I’d say he’s  _mostly_ out of the woods. 

The question was: was Wax?

* * *

 

The car was packed and Wax was all too eager to leave this godforsaken pile of ashes behind in the dust, but not before Sam came out of the room he shared with his brother. Wax hadn’t paid them any mind the past few days and even thought they’d taken off, or maybe he had just used that as an excuse for not going after them.

Either way, Reece’s stitches had come out two days ago and the old man had taken off shortly thereafter, with some form of dysfunctional apology and Wax had actually managed to string up some words kinda amounting to a thank you in response.

_Reece is alive. This is your reward. Now it’s time you pull your head out of your ass._

He closed the trunk, fiddled around with the dials until cold air started blasting, then finally decided to just get it the hell over with.

Sam stood closer than Wax wanted him, hands jammed in his pockets, biting the inside of his mouth. “So the two of you are heading out, huh?” Wax didn’t respond, fingers tapping on the passenger door behind him, itching to hit the road already. “Listen, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Neither of you deserved anything that happened and it was partly,  _mostly_ our fault, and I’m glad Reece is going to be okay.” Sam shifted his weight onto his other leg, huffed and stopped chewing the inside of his cheek. “Before you left, I wanted to give the both of you something because you guys  _really_ deserve a break after this, so…” A hand slipped out of his pocket and revealed two thin paper tickets. “It’s a two week vacation, all expenses paid. I know it can’t even  _begin_ to make up for everything we’ve put you through, but if meeting the two of you taught me anything, it’s that you should always do the right thing, even if it’s the second time around and not the first.”

Wax’s eyebrows rose at the knowing glint in Sam’s eyes. He figured he should be somewhat, or really  _mostly_ embarrassed about Sam finding out about him and Reece, especially when Wax didn’t completely understand it himself, only  _finally_ accepted it, but he actually found that the younger Winchester’s encouragement, if he could call it that, was sorta uplifting, like the universe had finally gifted him something. “And your brother?”

Sam huffed again, though it was apparent his frustration wasn’t fixed on Wax. “He’s stubborn but sorry. I won’t make any excuses for him or justify what he’s done, but he  _is_ sorry. He wishes the two of you the best.”

Wax, despite his better judgment, told himself to shut the fuck up and just take the tickets, so he did, tucking them safely away in his jacket pocket. He figured if  _both_ the universe and Sam Winchester were pushing him to the same moment, it was time he wake up and finally make his move. “The same goes for the two of you,” he forced himself to say, though realizing he did  _somewhat_ mean it. “You’re both good hunters, but if I ever run into either one of you again I can’t imagine myself being this friendly, and that’s an understatement. 

Sam nodded and backed off. “Got it.” His mouth quirked upward in a half-smile. “Don’t forget to ask the concierge about the free upgrades.”

With that he stalked off, leaving Wax with his hand still in his pocket and his heart heavier than it had ever been before.

* * *

 

Wax decided to forgo the plane tickets and opt for something far longer and more languid: a road trip. It wasn’t a decision more like it was a whim, something about how good Reece looked in the passenger seat. Those Winchester brothers spent their lives in that car of theirs, forever on the road until their next hunt, and something had lightened in Wax enough for him to see the appeal of it, of getting out of the cities for a while and watching this wide open beautiful sky stretch out above them, the road before them mesmerizing and smooth and almost eternal.

He could keep them here, in small, tucked away motels, sliding into booths whose seats were torn or cracking, just eating and talking, relaxing in towns where time almost stood still, indulging in pie and air that smelled of opportunity and a lighter Reece, who shed his clothes and his doubts and maybe even his fears.

He had seen that Reece, or at least caught a glimpse of him just before it all went to shit.

But could he,  _would he_ fight tooth and nail to give them this life? 

Reece noticed something was up about ten minutes into the ride and Wax couldn’t blame him, judging by how he hadn’t spoken since they’d taken off. “What’s going on, Wax? You haven’t told me if we got called up about our next case.”

“Nah,” Wax relented, glancing over at his partner, his  _Reece_ and smiling. He rested a hand lightly on Reece’s knee and Reece stared down at it but didn’t push it away. Victory number one, Wax self-congratulated himself. “I figure we’ve earned ourselves a little break.”

Reece watched him warily but Wax didn’t cave again, eyes fixed on the road. His hand still on Reece’s knee, relieved to feel no degree of heat seep out from underneath his jeans, suited him well-enough.

* * *

 

Despite the alteration in transportation, Wax still took Sam’s recommendation on the destination.

The Grand Canyon spread out before the two of them like some alien world, still and quiet and yet not barren, full of life and possibility and so much open space that Wax could scream at the top of his lungs and not be heard by another living soul.

It was late afternoon and they laid claim to an area just as others vacated, Wax spreading out a picnic he’d put together himself: actual sandwiches on fresh bread, wheels of cheese and containers of blueberries and strawberries, hell, even a bottle of champagne.

He could treat Reece well enough without any help from an airline, thank you very much.

Reece stretched out on his side of the picnic bench and swapped stories with Wax: funny, embarrassing stories that had them nearly snorting out lemonade from laughing so hard. They didn’t do this enough, usually grabbing coffee to go, forever on the chase. Wax was only now just realizing the toll it was taking, the time they had wasted, how they had been running from something and not the other way around, running from each other. They had been running away from a reality that wasn’t all violence and victims and darkness.

Just before sunset they crept to a quieter area, Wax hanging back and letting Reece settle where he wanted, even when it was on the edge of a cliff. A perfect vantage point.

There was literally nothing but sky before him… and Reece. A vivid gold and a pale orange were quickly parting for deep hues of blue tinged with vibrant shades of purple. Wax wasn’t really a poetic sort of guy, but even he had to admit that the unmarred view,  _their_ view was stunning and well-worth the drive. 

“Oh my god, Wax,” Reece gushed in wonder, eyes alight with a fire Wax embraced and clung to. “It’s… incredible. More than that.”

Wax fought back his grin, but it wasn’t like Reece was watching anyway. Honestly, his partner was  _far_ too easy to please sometimes. Not that Wax wasn’t any different, with his love for cheeseburgers, guns and any booze he could get his hands on. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a sunset before.”

The fire dimmed. Reece shifted uncomfortably, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his head on his jean clad knees. He’d been covering himself up lately, more so than usual, long sleeves and jeans and sometimes stealing Wax’s scarves too, when he wasn’t looking.

Wax didn’t like it, not that Reece didn’t look damn good in a pair of jeans, just that it meant he was shutting himself away again, somewhere Wax wouldn’t be able to dig him back out so easily. It struck him how small and vulnerable Reece looked now, lost in his own head, for once not obsessing about the world around him. Wax opted to get more of that out of Reece, but in a way where he was happy, not like this.

“To tell you the truth, Wax, I thought for a second there that I’d never get to see a sunset again.”

Wax got that. In that dark, windowless,  _pitiless_ room, there were a lot of things he thought he’d never get to witness again: Reece’s smile and the many variations of it, small and secret, wide and indulgent, the one thing untainted by the world around them; how Wax’s whole day could light up with just Reece laughing, head thrown back, sunlight painting his exposed throat gold and catching his hair in just the right way, or tipping his head down and trying to hide the chuckle behind his hands, Wax giggling like a pathetic schoolgirl next to him and not caring; how his face could flit from amused to annoyed to relieved to happy in a handful of seconds, each change more glowing and awe-inspiring than the last. 

He could always be himself around Reece, not that he was the kind of guy to be anyone else  _but_ himself, damn the consequences and the partners he’d ditched because of it, but more than that he  _liked_ himself most when he was with Reece, when Reece was laughing or sighing in frustration with or at him; when Reece was looking behind him to make sure that Wax was there and Wax would nod, reminding Reece that he always had his back; even when they fought tooth and nail because they were both stubborn but Reece sometimes put even him to shame, but even then they always went full circle until they were spent and forgiving and right back where they were meant to be, snapping back together like puzzle pieces. 

Wax just sat back and watched Reece, enjoying the view and content to do nothing else, knowing he needed to get this  _right._

“So what’s next on the list?” Reece asked, his head turning slightly on his knees to watch Wax and Wax didn’t lighten his gaze or open his mouth, just watched him, not caring if it unsettled Reece or angered him. Neither, Reece just sighed. “I bet you’re itching to get back to Paris, maybe shoot down some actual  _humans_ for a change. Terrorists, if we’re lucky.”

Wax expected this but it didn’t stop his heart from sinking. “Some things are more important to me than the next kill, Reece.”

Reece scoffed. “Yeah? Like what?”

Wax stared at him openly, his voice as sincere as he could make it. “Like you.”

Reece, however, didn’t take it like he thought he would. He had a damn thick skull when he wanted to have one. “Yeah, ‘cause we’re a good match. I get it, Wax.”

“No,”Wax huffed. “You don’t. You really don’t, Reece. You listen to me but you don’t  _hear_ me. You brush me aside every time I reach out because you think it’s all some sort of joke, but I’m not playing a game, Reece.” He swallowed hard, accepting the truth he’d kept hidden inside himself for too long. “I never was.” Quiet then, not even nature daring to make a sound. Wax took his next jump. “I’m sorry I never told you sooner. My only excuse is that I never realized it until you were bleeding out right in front of me, until I had to carry you out of that place with so much blood rushing out of you I thought I was going to drown in it.”

Reece finally lifted his head at that, face pale and nearly unreadable save for that flicker of fear, the one accompanying the twinge in Wax’s own heart. “Wax…”

“I only give a damn about this world ‘cause you’re in it. I want  _all_ of you, Reece.”

Reece tried to move away, but there was nowhere he could go except off the cliff or closer to Wax, and Wax knew this was the only way, to stop him from running.

Reece did  _so_ love to run. 

“I won’t let you hide anymore from me. If you tell me no, just this once, then I’ll back off and we’ll go back to being partners and friends,  _best_ friends, Reece, because I’ll be damned if that ever changes. But I want  _you,_ good and bad and all of it, all the time. I want you in my bed, all the way, because you’re already in my heart. As goddamn cheesy as that sounds, it’s probably the truest thing I’ve ever spoken. It wasn’t easy for me to get here, not by a long stretch, and look at me now, I can’t stop fucking  _talking_ but…,” he took a breath, blinking back tears. “But I’m here, Reece, baby. I always will be as long as you want me.”

Reece just shook his head back and forth so many times until Wax was sure it would pop off his neck. He frantically,  _angrily_ wiped tears away, hands clawing at the grass beneath him. Every movement that he made was like a stab at Wax’s chest, robbing him of air and still he came forward, careful enough that Reece could guess every movement, slow enough that he could inch past Wax if he wanted to. 

He didn’t. He sat there, looking lost and tired and shaken by disbelief. Wax had forced this on him; it needed to be done but  _still._

“Reese cup,” Wax knelt down before him and cupped his tear-streaked, heated face, smiling gently at how overwhelmed Reece looked before moving down to his belly, now devoid of bandages and stitches. He pushed Reece down until he was laying still underneath him and gingerly lifted his shirt until it was resting at mid-chest. He ran his thumb gently over the scars there, stilling when Reece jumped and shuddered. Wax locked eyes with Reece’s own tear-filled ones and placed a kiss on each scar, never breaking eye-contact, before pulling Reece’s shirt back down and leaving him be.

He faced the sunset once more, not really watching it but waiting, waiting for Reece to curl up against him and tuck his head against Wax’s neck and just  _fit there_ , like Wax knew he always would. 

Instead, Reece sat up and fiddled with his fingers and then pretty much fell on top of Wax with no warning and kissed him, hesitant at first until the older man wrapped his arms around him and pulled Reece down on top of him, then Reece was hungry and  _wanting_ and Wax just kissed back, slower, more patient but no less ravenous, knowing they had all the time in the world for this, at least right now. 

They rolled and tumbled through the grass like they were teenagers again, tension between them all but evaporated, sky darkening above and around them, the only witness to the show they were putting on for no one but themselves.

Wax laughed, the light, carefree sound booming out into the empty landscape and Reece followed, as if he were shedding every piece of him that had held him back, that had kept him chained to this world. Their hands locked together as they each rested on their backs, panting, smiling, breathing in cold, clear air and a shared happiness untainted by doubt or fear.

And when Wax turned his head and stole a long glance just before they lost the little light they had left, he saw the whole world unfold before him just like that open road.

Reece’s eyes sparkled, mirroring that same gratitude, that same freedom, that very same promise.

**FIN**

 


End file.
